


Karen's Bakery and Sandwich Shop - plus a bonus barbecue party

by tacticalshovel



Series: This Is 'Normal' For Us [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: A universe where magic exists but is a bit hidden, Bakery, Demons, Elementals, F/F, F/M, Hybrids, Magic, Magic Users, Sandwich Shop, Warlock - Freeform, a bit of relationshippy stuff, alchemists, also rain, backyard party, barbecue party, creative writing exercise, fae, mostly just character introductions, supernatural people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 08:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10213661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacticalshovel/pseuds/tacticalshovel
Summary: Magic exists, but it's hidden away from all normal mortals. There are towns all over the world, all protected from the human eye with charms, spells, and whatever else people can come up with, that are filled with many different magical beings. This includes, but is not limited to; demons, fae, elementals, alchemists, hybrids, and regular magic users.Let's narrow it down, though, to one town with a downpour and a Bakery. Also a barbecue party. And maybe a couple other things like a new girl, a laid-back water elemental, a warlock who sucks at cooking, a- well you'll see.





	1. The Shop - and there's also a downpour

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story in a long series (I hope) of little stories about the lives of different magical beings. There's is no major conflict, no world-destroying apocalypses, just day-to-day adventures and non-adventures of some magical people.

The windows of Karen’s Bakery and Sandwich Shop are streaked with water, the lack of awning leaving them unprotected from the barrage of spring rain pouring down from the cloud-littered sky. The shop is essentially empty, the afternoon rush long since dissipated. Scott, the lone employee working the register that day, is sitting back in his chair, scrolling through an app on his phone. Everything is quiet, only the sound of the rain and the dull hum of the ovens from the back of the shop preventing absolute silence Which is how Scott has no trouble noticing when someone reaches the shop’s door.

Scott looks up to see a woman, completely soaked, carrying a leather briefcase. She pulls open the door to the shop and smiles, her eyes taking in the view before her with childish glee. Scott glances at the water dripping from her onto the floor and flicks his gaze towards the plant by the door, causing the droplets to flow against gravity and into the pot. The woman glances down and sees it happening, her smile widening as she approaches the counter.

“Hi!” she exclaims, setting down her bag. “Sorry about the water, but I guess you have it covered!” She continues smiling despite his seemingly disinterested manner.

“What can I get for you?” he asks, his face showing little emotion, though he is slightly curious. She looks up at the chalkboard menu hanging above him.

“BLT without the T?” she says, more of a question than an order. Scott starts pushing buttons on the cash register.

“Mayonnaise? Mustard?” She shakes her head, still smiling. “Anything to drink?” Scott waits as she contemplates the short list of drinks they offer, taking the moment to try and decipher her. Her clothes are soaked through, her blue sweater almost black and probably offering no warmth. Her long brown hair is plastered to her head, a few strands sticking to her face and falling in front of her startlingly green eyes. Her hands come up to rest on the counter but she stops before she touches it, crossing her arms instead and then returning them to her sides. He notes this body language before returning her gaze as she orders an orange juice.

“That’ll be five seventy-five.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a slightly damp ten-dollar bill, which Scott simply shakes to rid it of the moisture.

“Thanks,” she says when he hands her the change, pocketing it with some difficulty.

“Are you new to this part of town?” he asks.

“Yes,” she answers. “I actually need directions to the hotel. Hotel… Oasis?” Scott nods.

“Let me get your order started and then I’ll give you directions.” The woman smiles in thanks and he turns away. He comes back a few minutes later holding a sandwich on a plate and a glass of orange juice and hands it to her. “Do you have a cell phone?” he asks, not expecting it when she shakes her head.

“No,” she says. “I should probably get one, though, shouldn’t I?” Scott shrugs, picking up an unwanted receipt from the stack behind the register and uncapping a pen.

“You can sit while I write down the directions.” He gestures to the two stools to his right on her side of the counter and she takes one graciously, digging into her sandwich almost immediately after sitting down.

“Thank you!” she says after swallowing a bite. “I really appreciate it.” Scott finally returns her smile, if only because her constant peppiness is making him feel a bit awkward. He starts scribbling some words on the back of the receipt in fairly legible handwriting.

“What’s your name?” he asks after a moment. The woman looks up in the middle of drinking her orange juice with momentary confusion, then her smile returns as she takes in the question with the same delight she seems to with everything else so far.

“Beatrice,” she tells him. “You?”

“Scott,” he replies, tapping his nametag. Beatrice looks slightly sheepish.

“Of course.”

Scott slides the receipt towards her and starts explaining his directions. The two of them are going over the words he wrote when someone calls from the back of the shop.

“Scott!” they hear a male voice yell. “You busy?” Scott gives Beatrice an apologetic look.

“The baker,” he tells her before turning towards the sound. “I have a customer!” he yells back. They hear shuffling accompanied by the sound of metal hitting metal, and a young man with curly brown hair and blue eyes emerges from behind the door to the kitchen. He looks at Beatrice, noting her soaked exterior, and smiles before turning to Scott.

“This place is dead and she already has her food,” he says, folding his arms. “You do not appear busy. Please make a deluxe grilled cheese.”  
“Just because there’s only one customer at the counter doesn’t mean I’m not busy,” he retorts. “And you can make the grilled cheese for your boyfriend yourself.” He turns away, effectively ignoring him, and finishes explaining his directions. The baker glares at the back of his head.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Despite his annoyed mumbling, he puts together a grilled cheese and throws it on the panini press, coming to rest his arms on the counter as Scott hands Beatrice the receipt.

“Think you got it?” he asks as she folds the paper in half. She nods.  
“I think so. Thanks again!”

“No problem,” he replies, reaching for her empty plate and glass. The smile drops from her face and she takes on a slightly concerned expression.

“Uh, be sure to wash those thoroughly by themselves,” she tells him, a small amount of alarm in her voice. “Also, maybe pick them up with gloves.” She rushes out the last part before he can grab them. The baker leans back and gives her a questioning look, crossing his arms at the same time.

“What type of demon are you?” he asks. Scott turns to him with a look of mild bewilderment and disbelief. The baker shrugs and gestures towards her. “Her eyes,” he answers.

“This is Marcos,” Scott tells her. “Our baker and resident alchemist. Also, a bit of a nerd and apparently not one for manners.” Marcos shrugs again, taking no offense to his comments. Beatrice nods.

“To answer your question,” she says, making eye contact, a small polite smile returning to her face. “Nature demon, specifically poisonous plants.”

“Are you not very good at containing it or something?” Marcos continues asking. Scott rubs his face with his hand, causing his olive skin to take on a reddish tint.

“You have no tact,” he says into his hand. Marcos doesn’t withdraw his question.

“I am in control,” answers Beatrice. “But I’ve been taught that accidents happen and it’s good to be safe.” Marcos narrows his eyes as if trying to figure something out. “And before you draw any conclusions, I did grow up in one of those traveling communities of magic users, so I probably come off as sheltered.” She smiles apologetically, as if she’s sorry. Marcos regards her for a moment longer before making a dismissive noise and turning back to the panini press to check on the sandwich.

“Apologies for the interrogation.” Says Scott. Beatrice simply shrugs and smiles again.

“I don’t mind,” she says, “It’s nice to meet people who aren’t afraid to ask question-” The door bangs open in the middle of her sentence and a tall, fairly lanky fellow with an umbrella comes bursting through.

“Marcos!” he yells excitedly. The baker whips his head around and his face lights up.

“Peter!” he yells back. “Your grilled cheese is almost ready!” Peter grins, brown eyes sparkling. His light brown hair is quite windswept and adds to his exuberant expression.

“Aw! You’re the best, bestie!”

“You know I am!” Scott sighs as they yell back and forth and Beatrice’s smile widens. Scott leans towards her.

“And they say they’re not dating,” he says, not even trying to be quiet. Marcos ignores him as he grabs Peter a plate.

“We can be good friends without being a couple!” exclaims Peter with a smile as he approaches the counter. Beatrice stands up from the stool and grabs her bag, waving to Scott.

“I’m going to get going,” she tells him. “Thanks again for the directions!”  
“Again, no problem. It’s not like we’re that busy.” He motions to the one customer sipping her coffee in the corner. “Hope you find the hotel okay.”

“I will!” Beatrice turns to leave with another wave and a smile, practically skipping out the door and back into the downpour. Peter watches her leave and starting up a conversation with Scott.

“Who was that?” he asks, leaning forward on his elbows and resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. Scott moves to start entering his order into the register.

“Just someone new in town,” he replies. “Anything to drink?”

“Just a water.” Scott nods and finishes ringing up the order. “Is she planning on staying for long?”

“Not sure,” he says, taking Peter’s cash and retrieving the correct change. “I know she’s staying at the Oasis, but I don’t know for how long.”

“She seems nice,” comments Peter as he takes his sandwich from Marcos. “Maybe we’ll see her around.”

“She’s a nature demon,” says Marcos offhandedly. “Poisonous plants.”

“That’s neat,” comments Peter before taking a bite of his sandwich. “Oh my god, this so good!” He takes another huge bite and makes a border-line orgasmic sound. Scott rolls his eyes.

“Save the moans for the bedroom.” Peter tries to talk but the words are completely obscured by the food in his mouth. Scott glares at him. “And stop talking with your mouth full.” Peter flips him off but continues eating, this time containing his noises. Scott takes the moment of silence to tidy up the counter a bit, wiping up a couple stains and checking the display of baked goods.

The single customer brings their mug back up to the counter and ventures back out into the rain, leaving the store essentially empty. Scott checks the time and realizes that there’s only fifteen minutes before the shop closes, and Marcos leaves to finish up in the kitchen as Scott starts to deal with the money in the cash register.

“Is that evening barbecue still happening?” asks Peter once he’s done with his grilled cheese. “I know Warren’s charmed his backyard, but won’t it still be a bit gloomy?” Scott finishes counting the nickels before answering.

“As far as I know, it’s still on,” he replies, noting the amount of nickels in a small journal and removing the dimes from the register. “I’m assuming he has lights.”

“Fair enough.” As Marcos and Scott close up the shop, Peter pulls out his phone to text the shop’s owner, Karen, about the barbecue. He receives a reply less than a minute later. “She says it’s still on,” he calls to the other two who are double checking all of the heating elements and cooking appliances. Scott returns to the front end with the keys to the shop and Marcos in tow.

“Hey,” starts Marcos, talking to Scott as they go to leave. “Would you mind walking us to Peter’s car?” He wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis and makes finger guns at him.

“Isn’t Peter’s umbrella charmed?” he asks. Peter fake pouts at him.

“But it doesn’t keep you entirely dry!” he reasons. Scott sighs.

“Only if you give me a ride to Warren’s and stop by my apartment on the way there,” he bargains. Peter crosses his arms.

“Fine,” he says, grabbing his umbrella but not opening it as they step outside. Scott locks the door as the rain falls around them, an invisible bubble keeping them completely dry. Peter marvels at how the rain seems to avoid them as if they’re surrounded by glass and almost walks past his car parked by the curb. Once they enter the car, Marcos turns around in the passenger seat to face Scott seated in the back.

“Ready to get fucked up tonight?” he asks with a malicious grin. Scott rolls his eyes.

“Cynthia said no alcohol.”

“What?” Marcos exclaims. “Damnit.”

“I think it has something to do with what happened at Karen’s birthday party,” he tells Marcos. “Cynthia wants us to try and have fun without getting blackout drunk.” It was Marcos’ turn to roll his eyes.

“She just doesn’t want to be stuck cleaning up after us.”

“That too.”


	2. The Party - not as much rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a barbecue.  
> *Insert shrug*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much happens. Oh well, It's fun to write.

“I think we have enough lights!” calls Karen, brushing her shoulder-length brown hair from where it has fallen in front of her eyes. Warren, whose backyard they’re setting up, pokes his head past the screen door to his house and glances at the lights strung up along the exterior.

“Are you sure?” he asks, stepping out to look around the yard. “I can make more floating ones…”

“We have plenty of those,” Karen stops him there, gesturing to the sea of magic lights. They’re floating in the air, just below the invisible force field keeping the rain from even touching the backyard. “Trust me.” Warren shrugs.

“If you say so.” He goes back into the house and emerges with a tray of various cuts of meat, getting ready to start the barbecue. His grey hair seems almost silver under the glow of the magic lights and his wife, Irene, points it out when she steps out of the house with a stack of paper plates.

“Nice hair, sweetie,” she says with a hint of sarcasm. Warren turns around with a confused expression before remembering the lights.

“Ah, yes, those darn lights always make my grey hair stand out. They do make for great lighting, though, so I just put up with it.” He turns back to the barbecue and starts fiddling with the controls, trying to get it started. Irene sets the plates down ensnares him in a hug.

“I think it looks nice,” she says, before leaning down and turning the knob on the propane tank. Warren shakes his head in disbelief.

“This is why I can’t live without you,” he says, kissing her as she smiles. “And I should mention that your grey hair is standing out too.” He runs a hand through her hair affectionately.

“Hey! Lovebirds!” The two turn to see Karen’s husband standing next to the screen door, a covered bowl in hand.

“Drew!” exclaims Irene. “You’re early!” Drew smiles and pulls Karen in for a quick kiss.

“Had some extra time and decided to come help out,” he tells them.

“Unfortunately, we’re almost done,” says Karen. “But you can help bring the food out from the kitchen.”

“Then I’ll do just that,” he responds, grinning at her before re-entering the house. Warren and Irene manage to get the barbecue running as Karen and Drew bring everything out and set it down on a table, creating quite the spread. Then they sit back and chat with the other couple until other people start showing up, which takes less than ten minutes.

Peter, Marcos, and Scott are the first ones to show up, arriving together and carrying the seafood salad they stopped at Scott’s to pick up.

“Let’s get ready to party!” yells Marcos as they walk out into the backyard. Scott takes a quick look around the yard  
“Cynthia’s not here first?” he asks, a little surprised that the resident busybody and party planner isn’t already there. Irene shakes her head with a smile.

“I told her she wasn’t allowed to come before six thirty.” Everyone laughs.

“Good idea,” comments Peter, taking a seat next to Drew with an acknowledging wave. “She needs to attend a couple parties without being a planner or helper.” Drew nods.

“Agreed,” he says. “Not that I don’t love it when she helps, but I always end up feeling bad when she does so much more than anyone else.” Everyone seems to agree. She may be a fae with seemingly unlimited energy, but even she needs to sit back and let other people deal with stuff sometimes.

Cynthia shows up at six twenty-three to a barrage of friendly mockery, her girlfriend Evelyn in tow.

“I tried to keep her away,” Evelyn tells them. “But we had nothing to do and she was just sitting on the couch practically twitching.” She smiles and Cynthia shoves her playfully.

“Shut up!” she exclaims, giggling. “I was sitting perfectly still.” Marcos laughs at this.

“You have never sat still in your entire life!” he accuses, laughing harder when she gives a glare. Peter punches Marcos lightly, but he’s also grinning.

People start showing up at a steady pace after that, the backyard starting to fill up. Warren mans the grill for the first half hour, claiming that he’s the man of the house so it’s his job, until his wife takes the ‘grill master’ title from him and speeds up the process. Brandon, an elemental and one of Scott’s childhood friends, laughs as Warren takes a seat next to him.

“Did she ban you from the barbecue?” he asks with a grin. Warren grabs a drink from the cooler and leans back in his chair.

“I left voluntarily,” he claims, semi-seriously. Brandon just laughs. Viola, the bookkeeper for Karen’s Bakery and Sandwich Shop, sits across from them, sipping ice water. Her blonde hair falls in front of her face and she pushes it out the way of her blue eyes as she enters the conversation.

“You really suck at barbecuing,” she starts, face betraying no emotion as usual.

“And baking, and cooking,” adds Warren with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I know, I’ve just never gotten the hang of any of it. Can’t seem to be bothered.”

“You’re-” Viola starts to say something but stops herself to glare at Peter and Scott who are sitting a few feet away. “I will kill you,” she threatens. Scott looks startled and Peter starts laughing uncontrollably.

“It was his idea!” yells Scott, pointing at a doubled-over Peter. Viola continues glaring as she turns back to the conversation at hand, which has stopped in favour of watching the scene unfold.

“What happened?” Brandon asks, looking between Viola and the two boys. Viola shrugs.

“Ask them,” she replies. Warren and Brandon turn to Scott for answers and he holds his hands up in defense.

“Peter was trying to get me mess with her drink,” he offers as an explanation, then adding “But I wasn’t going to do it, okay?” He looks to Viola who shrugs again, setting her drink down on the lawn and removing an ice cube from the cup. Peter, who is clutching his sides and paying them no attention, doesn’t notice anything and Scott says nothing. Viola raises her hand, seemingly lining up a shot, and tosses the ice cube at Peter. The ice nails the collar of his shirt, slipping inside and down the back of his shirt and causing him to jump up suddenly. He pulls frantically on his shirt, attempting to remove the rapidly melting ice. When the tiny piece falls onto the grass he looks up to make eye contact with Viola, who has a small grin on her face.

“Meanie,” he insults. Viola sticks out her tongue at him childishly, causing Warren to laugh and Brandon to basically lose his shit.

Jack, Viola’s friend from University, hears the ruckus and comes over to investigate. Brandon recounts the details once he manages to stop laughing, and Jack pats Viola on the shoulder as he sits down beside her.

“Nicely done,” he says, chuckling. His lion-tail whips back and forth behind him, emphasizing his amusement. Just then, Karen stops the music that has been playing in the background and gets up on a chair.

“Who’s ready for giant Jenga!” she yells, earning a loud cheer from the crowd around her. “Then let’s clear out a spot!”

One hour and several games of Jenga later, Irene goes inside to get the main desert and everyone is urged to sit back and relax, despite much protesting. She returns with a large homemade cake, iced green and blue, and is met with a loud round of clapping. As Irene cuts the cake into portions, Evelyn sits down beside Cynthia and wraps an arm around her.

“Are you doing okay with not helping out?” she asks with a joking tone. Cynthia pokes her cheek.

“You suck,” she tells her, smiling despite herself. “And yes, I’m doing fine.” Evelyn musses up her girlfriend red hair lovingly, receiving another poke, this time to her rib cage.

“Ack!” exclaims Evelyn, trying to escape. “Stop!” Cynthia giggles but stops tickling her, which she greatly appreciates.

Karen walks up and hands them each a plate with a piece of chocolate cake and a fork.

“Aw, thanks Karen!” coos Cynthia, accepting both plates as a joke before giving one to her girlfriend with a cheeky smile. Evelyn just pokes her nose and accepts the plate, thanking Karen as she does so.

“No problem,” she answers, moving to hand out more pieces. Irene is complimented multiple times on her baking skills and the cake is almost all gone only a few minutes after she started cutting it.

The boisterous festivities last until nine thirty, when people start leaving to go home. Scott catches a ride with Jack and Viola, Peter and Marcos deciding to stay for a while and chat with Drew about his new job.

The last few people finally decide to pack it in and return home around eleven, and Karen is the last one out the door.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help taking down the lights?” she asks. Warren dismisses her with a wave.

“I got it, don’t worry,” he tells her. “You two get going and have a safe drive!” He and Irene wave goodbye to the couple before returning to the backyard. Irene sets up the ladder and takes down the strings of lights from the side of the house as Warren works on dispersing the floating ones.

As soon as the lights are all gone and the only thing illuminating the backyard is the porch light the two step inside and Warren takes down the weather charm, letting the rain fall freely. It’s not quite as severe as the earlier downpour, but it’s enough of a drizzle that they’re both thankful the charm held up through the party.

“Shall we head up to bed?” offers Irene, locking the back door behind them. Warren nods, yawning loudly.

“It’s been a long day,” he says. “It was fun, but I’ll be glad to lay down and close my eyes.” Irene nods in agreement and they make their way upstairs to pass out, shutting the lights off behind them and plunging the house into a comfortable darkness.


End file.
